


Trigger

by dondrapers_pen



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Basically a scene from the movie, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Except you're in it, F/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-06-07 06:54:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6792082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dondrapers_pen/pseuds/dondrapers_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky knows what will happen if he lets them get into his head again- he just doesn't know what will happen to you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Longing.” 

His head thrust backwards, a habit of his if he was in excruciating pain. His hands began to wiggle and crack as he prevented himself from lashing out, yet he would not take his eyes off of your cowering, frightened form. You weren’t worried at first, but as you felt the ropes on you become tighter by each passing second, you succumbed to a state of anxiety. 

“Rusted.”

Bucky’s back was now hitting the chair hard, but no matter how much noise he caused just by himself, he could not drown out his words. “No, no, no, no, no, no,” he said, and with every word his volume increased, the anger in his voice rising. The chair rattled and he fell over, forced to slam himself against the ground. His eyes rolled up and faced you, and you sat there with cheeks tear-stained and sucking in every breath. 

“Seventeen.”

Your mind had revolved around the sole question of how the both you had gotten there. Though the man who circled Bucky’s cell had explained to you why you were here, the only possible thing you could focus on was Bucky and the way he had looked at you. “I’m sorry,” he had pleaded to you. You remembered nodding your head in response, eyes welling with unfortunate and unintentional tears. That was before the man began his incantation, and you had witnessed Bucky’s eyes widen and his breathing become rapid. 

“Daybreak.”

He began to plead to the man. “Stop, shut up!” He could see how frightened you’d become as the man continued the invocation. It wasn’t long before Bucky’s zip ties snapped in half and his metal arm was pounding against the jail cell bars. Your heart was beating out of your chest as he eyed you with anger. It was never his intention to get you involved in this— and he would be the one to pay for it. 

“Furnace.”

A shiver coursed its way through your body as you heard his metal arm repeatedly slam against the bars of the cell he was in. You knew he could pull them apart, he was just stopping himself from doing so. But when he approached you, you knew Bucky would snap any moment now. You felt his hand resting against the core of your neck, and he chuckled at the way you struggled against the ropes. Bucky, triggered, was grunting loudly as his muscles strained themselves further and began to pull those bars apart. The thought of you being hurt by this man was the only thing on his mind. 

“Nine.”

Bucky was grunting loudly, he watched you writhe uncomfortably under the man’s touch and he felt a vein begin to pulse in his head. Though picturing serene moments with you was quite easy to do, the words filled his head like an open hole that was empty for a long time. 

“Benign.”

Every part of your body was shaking, no matter how hard you’d bite your tongue to tame it. Watching him shout in frustration and use his frightening power to pull the bars apart. He’d kill him, you knew. As that hand on your neck tightened itself, you heard Bucky’s screams elevate in both volume and aggravation. The cell rattled with his weight, his head thrashing back and forth. 

“Homecoming.”

His eyes were closed shut, but when they would open, they’d alternate between you and the man whose hand was closing on your windpipe. “Bucky,” you’d whisper. His dead eyes held no particular indication as to what he’d do when he would get out of that cell. You were left to pray that he would manage to get out before those last words. 

But even with just a few more statements to go, you could sense there was no getting out of this one. Desperation clawed through your voice, as you felt the man’s hand let up and you were left with cold air to breathe in. “James,” you said. He heard you, you knew he did. Yet he pestered with the bars, they were nearly open now and he would be able to pass through him if he really tried. It seemed evident to him that he could, but there was clearly something stopping him. Unless there was a last minute grace, both you and him knew there was no time left. 

“One.”

The loud bang of flesh against metal made the air in your throat lodge as you saw his head stained with blood. Never had you seen Bucky like this, so desperate and vicious. His teeth showed through his lips and even his eyes pleaded with any remaining innocence he had left. “Please don’t do this,” you whispered to no one, yet you knew he could hear you. They both could. 

You felt the room suddenly turn cold; Bucky had managed to pull most of them apart, but you knew there was a drawing to close as he still continued to scream and thrash in the cell. “Please.”  
Your eyes were closed shut as you refused to look at him anymore, praying to whatever higher being that could hear you that this was all just a dream. You were still in that chair when you opened your eyes, bound to it because he knew you—he loved you. 

“Freight Car.”

There was metal on the floor, just feet away from you. Your breath hit the air hard and forcing your eyes close did nothing for you as you heard and even felt his breathing in the air across from you. You couldn’t hear any noise above you, but you could remember Bucky’s twisted words that usually no matter what, always sounded like the first time you met. Just not this time. 

“Ready to comply.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She remembered him, she accepted him for what he was. He was the one to put an end to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page break (line) signifies a change in time. It shifts between what happened after the incantation and a time when Bucky and reader were happy lol i wrote this in the wee hours of the morning kill me .. sorry for the feels

Bucky, if willing enough, could count the tiny collective drops of blood on the cold tile floor. He could if he wanted to, breathe in and focus on the familiar metallic aroma that coursed through the room. However how much he willed himself to control his senses no matter how damaged they were, he simply could not. His will was not even of his— he knew this. The only thing he could manage to control was his rapid and choppy breathing against the cold flesh below him. 

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

“What’s your name? Tell me that, at least.”

There was something disturbing about listening to such a sweet, subdued voice while he was bleeding profusely from his leg. She knelt down calmly in front of him, her arm instinctively and unexpectedly came to rest on his arm that was of flesh in order to support herself. His eyes looked slowly down to her nimble fingers that were rummaging through the different bottles and sorts of packaging that were far from unknown to Bucky’s gray eyes. Even though he did not answer her as quickly as she liked, she continued to care for his wound that was numbing him to the core and dulling his mind into oblivion. 

She pressed an alcohol-soaked cotton pad against his leg and she stared at him in disbelief when he didn’t immediately hiss and recoil at the harsh acetone. He threw his head back against her counter, receiving a worried glance from the girl. Bucky hardly remembered stumbling almost drunkenly into the girl’s kitchen, let alone getting into her lone apartment. He did, however, remember growling at her in a language he knew she wouldn’t understand. Of course, she wouldn’t, the poor thing. But here she was, patching up a wound she wasn’t obligated to. 

“Well, my name’s (Y/N).”

(Y/N). The way it sounded, the way it fell from her lips was the most perfect and most tranquil sound he had heard in quite some time. It suited her, such a pretty name. 

“B-Bucky…” He responded. 

His voice sounded gravelly against the humid air that was your kitchen, cold against your face that was against his side. Your toes drilled themselves into the floor, curling as your heels drove back to the ground as you used a regular kitchen knife to tear off more fabric from his already torn pants. You hardly knew anything about digging a bullet would from a thigh yet you were here sitting on the floor next to a man who could kill you if you looked at him the wrong way. The amount of blood pooling onto your floor was agitating to you, but you continued to search through your standard first aid kit for pliers to dig the piece of metal out. Yes, you a certified CPR graduate could definitely refer to a thing or two in this dire moment of a man’s life. The fact that he had a gun inches away from your abdomen wasn’t helping at all, making your hands twitch with anxiety that if you so much as looked at him the wrong way. 

You were nothing but a trainee in nursing at the moment which made it so coincidental he happened to spring into your apartment of this ridiculous hour of the morning. Though you were experienced (with simulations), there were far more advanced medical occupants out there- he just happened to stumble into your crappy abode. 

It drove him up the wall seeing you struggle in the dark kitchen that was your own. He had no choice but to be frustrated with you as you pressed the needle further into his deep wound. Now if you could only find the bullet and stop pooling all this blood onto your floor. For a moment, you had found it but upon taking it out, your hands trembled so violently that the pliers themselves fell out of your hand onto the floor, making the loudest noise in your apartment apart from the loud mixed breathing of both your’s and Bucky’s. 

“I-I’m sorry.” 

He remembered the way you stuttered as if you’d committed a crime so heinous not even God would forgive. You left the blood-stained pliers on the floor and reached for the needle and thread, immediately getting to work on his thigh. At least you were good at this stuff, you thought to yourself. He watched you in dull agony as you laced so eloquently and skillfully the large wound. He couldn’t help but wonder if you had done this before. Before he knew it, his arm was setting itself down on the floor, gun falling complacently out of his strong hand. This startled you yet you continued to stitch up the wound, noticing the way he began to close his eyes. 

“It’s OK.” 

The way he answered you gave comfort to you, knowing you had done right by him. His voice seemed dramatically tired and by the time you had finished wrapping the bandage around his thigh, you quickly stood up with all of your faltering strength. His eyes searched your body for a phone of some sort, perhaps you’d use this chance to escape or call for someone. He suddenly found himself slipping into a deeper sense of calmness even though the wound in his stomach was still prominent. He refused to close his eyes but surprisingly found this so easy to do. This went against all his training- stay awake, he reminded himself, she could call the authorities. You’re a god damned wanted criminal. 

Instead of screaming for help out your opened window, instead of dashing out the front door which was easier to run to than the phone, you returned with a damp towel and a cup of iced water with a pill of some sort. You mentioned something about it helping him with the pain or sleep. He didn’t care, he found himself already drinking from the cup and shoving the tiny pill into his mouth. 

“You’re the Winter Soldier, aren’t you?

Bucky breathed a heavy sigh, still finding it quite hard to keep his eyes open. His mind searched for open opportunities to avoid the question or find an easier way to answer it. It felt natural for him to lock eyes with you and the rest of your no longer timid body. Though your hands might have stopped shaking, he could see the rising tension in your eyes, building with fear of what he’d do next. The way your fingers rested on your kneecap made him feel a sense of security in your presence. And the way your lips parted filled him with an unknown innocence and naiveté he had not experienced in awhile. You made him feel young and at peace and he knew from there on out you always would. 

“Are you scared?”

You stood up again, this time, you had left the room for a solid two minutes. He closed his eyes and listened intently to the ambiance of your apartment in this lively city. Bucky heard clamoring from the hallway of your tiny apartment, and this time feared for the worst. Did you live alone? No, that was impossible. A beautiful girl like you living alone without some significant other to share the lonely apartment with? He heard footsteps approaching his ears again and you placed two blankets and a pillow by his side. You mentioned something about him taking the bed down the hall and that there was a bathroom just across from it. 

 

That next morning, he was gone when you went to search for him. Your back ached from sleeping on the couch last night and giving your own bed to a complete not to mention dangerous stranger. With folded blankets sitting on top of your bed and stained sheets sitting on your washer (with a crumbled post it not sitting on top of it saying nothing but ‘sorry’), you were left to conclude that he had gone away and forgot about you already. No thank you, nothing but a sorry. Although your apartment was still empty, you could remember in the faint hours of the early morning that day when your eyes peeked open to see the sun rising into the morning, and seeing a figure standing right before you. 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

Bucky began to breathe in hard choppy bits of metallic air. This could not have been brought about by his own hands. The broken limbs laying beneath him were a testament to his weak, beaten mind that was not of his own. Damn him, damn himself and damn that book. Damn those words. Those words that got into his head so easily. He found himself shaking, letting out pained noises of anguish and regret. He believed your bones to be broken in at least six different places, and the blood pouring out of your side was all too familiar to his eyes. It was hard for him to believe that he had let those words creep into his mind again, and the smirk of the man who emitted the words was burning familiar images into his mind. Bucky was most angry that you were the one who had to face the consequences of these words. There were so many emotions mixing in his head but the only sounds that fell from his mouth were pained sobs that reflected his regret. 

 

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

For some strange and unknown reason to the both of you, Bucky found himself standing outside of your apartment almost every night, staring up at your window (the one he, of course, crawled in and out of). His hands would be stuffed in his pockets and a cap would overshadow the concerned look in his eyes as he’d stare up at you pacing around the room, sometimes with a glass of wine in hand and other times he’d see you walking over to your couch. He found it cute when you’d anxiously close the curtains every night around one in the morning. He found it curious the way you’d always be running out of your apartment in the morning, struggling to pull your hair into its natural bun on top of your head and having to always run back in because you’d forgot God knows what item this time. It wasn’t that Bucky had all this time on his hands to casually saunter over to your block and check up on you and creepily stalk you. Some girl like you who let criminals stumble into her apartment and never bothered to call the authorities and let those same criminals sleep in her bed deserved someone to keep an eye on her. 

Bucky found himself standing in your room one night. Of course, this was weird for him, but your curtains flying open into the cold air worried him for you should potential criminals (such as himself) to crawl in. He took in every bit of your clean room that smelled of lavender since he could barely even keep his eyes open the last time he had been in your room. There were some picture frames of what appeared to be your friends and family, a large miscellaneous assortment of books that did not stick to one particular genre, and some clothes scattered on your bed. There was a desk with paperwork stacked on top and bottles of pills sitting innocently next to a bottle of wine. He found himself smirking into your humid room and shifted his eyes over to your peaceful form. Bucky vividly remembered the way your face pressed into your pillow with two arms laced around it. He remembered your heavy and melancholic, monotonous breathing against your arm and the way your legs were pitted against a second pillow. It was quite hard to sustain some snicker when he glanced down at your favorite colored shorts that you still had trouble outgrowing them. 

This random act he had done quickly turned into a creepy one when he suddenly realized the way you were sitting up and staring at him in pure disbelief. You didn’t look frightened or even worried, just shocked he was standing there. Of course, you recognized him, which was probably what bothered him the most. He watched you bring a closed fist to your eye and rub it gently to quit it of its sleep. You fully sat up and watched him inch backward towards the window when your mouth opened unintentionally, with only one word falling from of your lips. 

“Bucky?”

His breath caught in his throat and his heart that was previously at a tranquil state began to beat unhealthily rapidly. He looked for something to support himself on and before he knew it, his back was hitting the windowpane. You weren’t moving, you just sat there with a pillow between your bare legs and a hand to your eye, the other supporting you. 

“I-I should go.”

The next words to fall from your mouth never should have ever been committed. You’d probably never be in this situation that you were in now. You probably wouldn’t have been lying on a concrete floor with half of your bones broken and your blood spilling profusely underneath you as you listened to your heart beat with all of its remaining strength. You probably would never have learned to love the man. 

“No. Stay with me.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

He smirked, watching his beautiful masterpiece fall into place so eloquently and effortlessly. Helmut, known primarily as Zemo watched the man who was responsible for everything beat the ground into cracks with his metal arm. He watched him scream into the empty air shared only by him and the soon to be corpse. Zemo was sure Bucky would lose his voice soon if he continued to scream and sob the way he did. It brought him total pleasure seeing him tremble and look at the beautiful work he had done. 

It was simple, he had learned: once the book had been acquired and once Zemo had acquainted himself with a fellow HYDRA worm within SHIELD, he was able to easily escape and find the man responsible for everything. The rest was just as easy- make him feel his pain, make him understand what it’s like to be responsible for everything he’s done. And what a better way to do that then to take the only one he loves so dearly. 

He shouted her name. Shouted it into an empty atmosphere that was all but quiet. 

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"You deserve it."

 

Bucky was finding it undeniably hard to process the words of this girl. He smirked into the air, hand still tangled in her hair that was falling onto his lap. Utterly lost for words, she too smiled that she rendered him speechless not because he was surprised but because she knew he agreed with her. He watched her close her eyes and whisper something to him but he was already tearing away at the delicate tissue paper that was wrapped around a large thin…vinyl?

“Cliff Edwards? How the hell’d you get this? God, how’d you even know?” 

She laughed and sat up, immediately leaning over to press her cheek upon his shoulder as he stared in awe at the vinyl. Her lips found their way to his cheek and he found himself turning his head to return the favor. 

“You sing more often than you think. Happy Birthday, Buck.”

If there was a time so sweet as this, Bucky wish someone would allow him to see it. But the way her arms were wrapped so delicately around his arm, the way her lips felt against his neck, the way his heart beat when she kissed him over and over again brought him into a state of sadness. That he’d never be able to live such a beautiful moment like this again, not even if he tried. 

“I love you.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

"Please look at me."

"Just for one second, baby. I-I'm sorry. I promised this wouldn't happen. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

A sigh escaped her lips, and her fingers twitched against his hand. Her other hand rested on her spilled blood stain just below her abdomen. Another struggling breath was what she took in, disjointed words was what she breathed out. He could hardly even hear her words that were barely above a whisper.

"It's OK."

"It's not your fault."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again... Page break (line) signifies a change in time. It shifts between what happened after Zemo's words and a time when Bucky and reader were happy .


End file.
